


Some Kind of Madness

by Victorious56



Category: RWBY
Genre: Getting Together, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Pre-Relationship, Sexy Times, but not excessively explicit, doesn't sound so sexy when you put it like that, harriet has one line, in a different scene obviously, slow burn is not a concept here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 07:20:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25466905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Victorious56/pseuds/Victorious56
Summary: Clover enjoys the heady rush of a new relationship. But after the madness of the early, euphoric liaisons, is there anything more?
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi
Comments: 12
Kudos: 41





	Some Kind of Madness

**Author's Note:**

> The idea for this came after listening to [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mq9zhpBweDk). Muse can be a bit bonkers but I love this one.

Clover breathed a sigh of relief. Qrow and some of the others had left for an extended mission which should take them three or four days. His life was his own again.

It was so simple when Qrow wasn't there. Gods dammit, Qrow hadn't been there for the first three and a half decades of his life. His straightforward, well-regulated, sane life.

And in the space of a few weeks, Clover had gone mad.

Harriet had told him. "You're insane, boss. Hooking up with Branwen? He's trouble, you'll see."

He'd torn her off a strip for that. If he'd spoken to his superior in that way, at her age...

Although a small part of his brain wondered if she might be right.

  


Qrow had arrived in Clover's life in a somewhat unorthodox way. A stolen airship, landing in an unapproved area with no clearance. Fighting Grimm with what, initially, appeared to be unauthorised weapons.

Well, they'd got that wrong for starters.

And the responsible adult of the party? None other than Qrow Branwen, erstwhile associate—and maybe more?—of his own superior officer.

Clover had soon realised Qrow would reject the epithet _responsible_ instantly. It seemed he neither viewed himself that way, nor wanted the weight responsibility would bring. He kept a watchful eye on his group, but from a distance.

Clover had also been observing Qrow from a distance. The older huntsman intrigued him, on both a professional and personal level. Clover took a great interest in all his colleagues—in a work capacity—and he saw this as one of his strengths. He set out fully prepared to extend the same interest in Qrow's direction, but had met with a rebuff. Qrow was not one to share.

He had tried different ways to encourage Qrow to open up. His questions about Qrow's past experiences as huntsman, his desire to learn about Harbinger, his interest in Qrow's travels with his party— nothing had worked.

Clover had decided on a more unusual approach. He started flirting with Qrow.

Flirting was something Clover had confidence in, based on past success. His efforts— _not much of an effort, to be honest_ —were generally well received, with only the occasional misreading of a situation to trip him up. So when his overtures to Qrow seemed to be acknowledged, accepted, and returned, he felt he was making progress. He was on solid ground.

That ground was rocked by an earthquake, the day he and Qrow finished a mission late, and decided to get some food from the vending machine in the deserted mess hall.

Clover's whole body still burned with the memory.

A dropped bar of chocolate, hands touching as it was returned.

Fingers in contact, far longer than necessary.

A long, long gaze between red eyes and green.

A hand placed on his chest, an eyebrow raised, asking the question.

The sensation that his heart had simultaneously plummeted into his belly, and surged into his throat.

Their lips meeting, hesitantly at first, then harder, desperate.

The press of his body against Qrow's, desire rising in both of them.

The stumbling rush into the deserted kitchen area, hands never separating.

Fumbling fingers, loosened clothing, and then hands... his hands on Qrow's muscular yet pliant body. And Qrow's hands... slender fingers sliding silkily under his shirt, under the waistband of his trousers.

Clover had known passion before, had followed the path of lust to wherever it led.

He had never known a journey such as he'd taken with Qrow that evening.

They had not had sex. Not any kind of sex. And yet it was the most exhilarating, sensual experience of Clover's life.

When they had parted later, at the door of Clover's quarters, he couldn't quite understand what had happened. The intensity of that half-an-hour, blossoming from nothing, and now Qrow had gone. _What am I supposed to do?_

Clover entered his room, leaning back against the closed door, his breath still unsteady. He pushed himself away, walking slowly forward, and began to remove his clothes. The unrequited ache could not be ignored. Clover stripped off, taking great care not to touch his skin, the sensitivity he felt almost painful. The sanctuary of the warm shower allowed his thoughts to return to Qrow, and allowed his hands to roam to places where the sensation of his own fingers, he knew, was a pale imitation of what the other man might offer.

  


The memory of that encounter sent Clover's brain into a giddy, heated whirl. His body followed, a willing participant. He hadn't seen Qrow for several days after it had happened, and it took all Clover's self-restraint to get through his work day. He managed— years of military training served him well. When the day's work was done, however...

_What is this? I've never felt like this, ever. But it's just physical. It's just lust._

Clover lay on his bed, eyes closed, arms wrapped across his chest. His mind showed him a succession of images, of Qrow's hair, his smile, his eyes... Clover could hear the husky voice, the sudden laugh...

He wanted Qrow's arms about him, wanted to feel the other man against his chest, wanted to stroke his hair and make him smile.

He wanted Qrow.

A buzz from his scroll interrupted the pleasant flow of his thoughts. Frowning, he grabbed it from the nightstand and opened it. There was a message from Qrow.

_Sorry I've been a bit busy but I think we need to talk, is now okay?_

Clover stared at the message as though he expected it to ignite. _Yes! No... Yes!_

He finally typed a response.

_Yeah sure, nothing happening here atm_

Clover rolled over onto his front, begging his body to behave. He had not felt this out of control for many years, and whilst it was physically thrilling, it was also exhausting.

Qrow tapped at his door a few minutes later. He glanced at Clover, his face stern. Clover tried to smile, but Qrow's face was forbidding as he followed the younger man through to the living room.

"Right." Qrow did not sit down, choosing to stare out of the window as he spoke. "This shouldn't be happening."

"What exactly do you mean?" Clover's voice was unsteady, his heart even more so.

Qrow turned round. "What happened the other evening... it was a mistake." His eyes flicked towards Clover's face briefly.

"Why? I mean, why not? We're both adults, unattached..."

Qrow's expression softened as he considered Clover. "I know, and in an ideal world—"

"There's no such thing, Qrow. If you wait for the ideal moment you will never do anything. And I—" he broke off.

Qrow prompted, "You what?"

"I... can't stop thinking about you." Clover's whispered confession lingered in the quiet room.

"I know. 'Cause it's the same for me."

Clover took a step towards him. "Then—"

Qrow raised a hand to stop him. "That's not a good enough reason. You have your job, I have to consider the kids, and I'm bad news, in case you'd forgotten."

"I hadn't, but Qrow, please... this is driving me mad, I've never—"

"Never felt like this before? No, me neither." Qrow turned back to the window, resting his clenched fists on the sill.

"Then why come? Why be here? Why—"

"Because I couldn't bear not seeing you."

Qrow's gruff admission was all the invitation Clover needed. In two strides he was behind Qrow, pulling at his shoulders to turn him round.

Qrow's eyes locked with Clover's. "I can't get you out of my fucking head, Ebi. It was only meant to be a bit of fun—"

"Maybe it could be? Just that, nothing else?" Clover's words were a lie; both men knew it, neither admitted to that knowledge.

"Yeah, just fun." Qrow's mouth met Clover's in a heated, bruising kiss, which neither wanted to break.

Clover pulled at Qrow's clothes, buttons ripping off in his haste to remove them. "Careful there, I need these." Qrow's voice was unsteady as he fumbled with his belt, managing to pull his trousers and everything else off at the same time.

Clover had scrambled out of his clothes, and as Qrow stood up he stepped into him, pressing against Qrow's hip in desperation. "Bedroom?" Clover's breath was hot against Qrow's ear. He nodded, his urgency matching Clover's as they pushed each other into the bedroom, clambering onto the bed without speaking. Qrow rolled onto his back, and Clover knelt alongside him. He paused on the brink of the moment, relishing the sight of Qrow stretched out beside him.

Qrow stared up at Clover, as his fingers ran along the younger man's thigh. Clover trembled, one tentative hand brushing the front of Qrow's hip. His hand trailed across, fingers snagging a little in the dark curled hair. Qrow shifted, Clover's knuckles now resting against him. Clover was transfixed as Qrow began to rock his hips, moving himself against Clover's hand. Qrow's breath caught, his eyes never leaving Clover's face, as Clover's fingers finally curled around him. Qrow reached out a hand, his grip closing over Clover, the kneeling man shuddering as Qrow's thumb began to trace up and down.

The two men held eye contact, Clover leaning forward and supporting himself on one hand, as their hands moved with a matching rhythm.

Breath coming faster.

A low moan deep in the throat.

A hot, hurried kiss.

Hands moving more rapidly.

An increasing tension.

An approaching cliff-edge.

A name spoken aloud.

A shared heart-bursting moment...

A shuddering breath out.

A single tear at the corner of the eye.

A gentle smile...

Clover stared wide-eyed into Qrow's face, the usually pale skin glowing in the soft light of the bedside lamp. Qrow raised his clean hand to gently push strands of damp hair from Clover's brow.

"Gods," Clover gasped, shaking as he kneeled more upright. "Qrow. Fuck."

"Okay, but give me a chance to get my breath back." Qrow's eyes crinkled as he smiled widely. "Come here."

Clover smiled back, as he almost collapsed against Qrow. He trailed his fingers across Qrow's chest, raising them dripping to Qrow's mouth, brushing his lips with a fingertip and wetting them gently. Clover slid his index finger against Qrow's tongue, eliciting a groan from deep in the other man's throat.

"Then again, I could be persuaded..." Qrow pulled some tissues from the box on the nightstand, rubbing his chest almost clean before discarding them on the floor.

He turned back to face Clover, whose face bore a film of perspiration as he looked back at Qrow. "So." Qrow's fingers edged down the side of Clover's face. "Did that count as a _bit of fun_?"

"I don't know, Qrow. It was... breathtaking. Literally." Clover laughed nervously.

"Nothing you haven't done before, though?"

"Not... well of course I have, but..." Clover bit his lip, adding, "It seemed different."

"Of course it did. It was me." Qrow smirked, snaking an arm about Clover's waist to pull him closer. He kissed Clover's lips, slightly swollen from their earlier encounter. Clover trembled, raising a hand to Qrow's face.

"How can I say _How was it for you_ without actually saying _How was it for you_?"

Qrow laughed. "I guess you just said it anyway. It was—" His face became serious, and his hand stilled against Clover's back. "It was the most amazing thing I've ever done with anyone ever. And I'm including myself in that."

Clover frowned for a moment, before breaking into a laugh. "You're a funny guy, Qrow."

"I try." He pulled Clover closer, one leg sliding between the younger man's. "Are you ready for a return match?"

❖

That had been three weeks ago. Now Qrow was away for a while, and Clover felt he could catch his breath.

Not that the past three weeks had been unenjoyable. Clover had spent almost every night with Qrow, and there were occasional interludes during the day, when circumstances allowed. Their feverish intensity had scarcely diminished, and the contrast between the private moments, and public interactions, was marked. Qrow insisted they maintain a professional, almost distant, relationship at work.

"I don't want you getting into trouble on my account, Clover. I'm sure the Ice Queen would be only too glad to call me out, and that would drag you into it. That mustn't happen."

Clover was touched that Qrow should be so thoughtful. A tiny, reckless part of him didn't care who knew, and wanted to tell everyone how lucky he was to spend time with this gorgeous man. A man who had turned his world on its head, and caused him to quiver with anticipation the moment they were alone.

He had informed the other Ace Ops that he and Qrow were seeing each other. No details were given or asked for— Harriet's disapproval was the only comment made.

With Qrow away, Clover expected his life to revert to the old normal. When this didn't happen, he was perplexed. _I should at least be getting a good night's sleep_. He wasn't, because he was worrying about Qrow's mission, and hoping he was safe.

 _Of course_ he spent time recalling their moments together. _Of course_ he enjoyed reliving the effect Qrow had on his body. _Of course_ he lay awake remembering Qrow's laugh, the jokey comments at inappropriate moments, the feel of his hair as Clover stroked it before they went to sleep, the tender kiss they would exchange before leaving for work...

Clover spent time considering a scenario where he and Qrow were together, but could not have sex for some reason. What would that be like? Was it just about sex? Were there other, deeper facets to their relationship?

Clover was starting to think there were.

The third night Qrow was away, Clover woke in the early hours of the morning. His face was wet, the pillow was wet. He had been crying in his sleep.

He tried to recall if he'd been dreaming, but wasn't successful. He stretched out in the bed, attempting to get comfortable, but failing. _This bed is too big when Qrow isn't here_. Clover turned on his side, grabbing the other pillow, which still bore the faintest scent of Qrow's shampoo, pressing his face against it. After a long while, he fell asleep.

  


Qrow's team were expected back the following day. Clover went about his work in his usual methodical way, trying to focus on the moment. The thought of seeing Qrow again was ever present, and each time it surfaced, he found himself smiling. Elm asked him what was so funny.

"Oh, nothing. Just thinking of something, that's all."

"Something? Or someone?"

Clover looked away from her, studying the barren landscape through the window carefully. "Hmph," was all he could think of to say.

"You don't need to be embarrassed, boss. We all think it's sweet. Well, most of us do. Harriet remains to be convinced."

"Yeah, she's made her opinion quite clear. But really, it's no concern of any of you."

"Oh well, if that's how you feel." Elm's voice was flat.

"No, sorry Elm, that came out wrong. What I mean is, I'm trying not to let it interfere with my work. It has to be a separate thing... Qrow feels the same."

Elm noticed how Clover couldn't help smiling as he said Qrow's name.

"You've fallen for him big time, haven't you?" She smiled as she looked at him.

Clover glanced at her. "I have. I can't believe I've only known him a few weeks. It's madness..."

"It might seem that way, but you'll settle down in a while. And then you'll know if there's anything else there, or if it's just... a pyrotechnic. All superficial flare, but nothing there to fuel it for very long."

Clover stared at her. "I don't think I've ever heard you come out with anything like that before."

"Well, it's not the Ace Ops way, is it? But— I like you, boss. As a superior, and as a person. Wouldn't want you getting burnt." She coughed, shifting in her seat to gaze through the window.

Clover laid a hand on her arm. "Thanks, Elm."

  


It was now evening, and Qrow's team had not returned. Communications were bad, as they often were, so no-one knew what the situation was. Clover couldn't sleep, so after lying awake for an hour or so, he got out of bed and padded along the corridor to the communal kitchen. _Maybe a milky drink will help._

Entering quietly, he was startled to see Vine standing by the counter. Vine glanced over his shoulder. "It seems sleep is elusive tonight, for both of us."

"Yes, it is. I thought a drink of... hot chocolate or something..."

"That is my intention, shall I make one for you?"

"Yes please, Vine."

The only sound in the small room was the rattle of mugs and spoons, as Vine prepared the drinks. He placed them in the microwave, saying, "This will only take two minutes."

"Uh, Vine?" Clover's tone was hesitant. "You did Psychology at the Academy, didn't you?"

"I did a module in my second year, yes."

"This is going to sound ridiculous, but maybe you can help... what is madness, exactly?"

Vine regarded his superior officer calmly. Clover returned his look, his own face not quite as impassive.

"Madness is not one state, indeed, it is not a scientific term at all. It is used by non-professionals and may encompass many different forms of mental instability."

Clover hesitated. _I don't know if I should even be speaking to him about this_.

The microwave pinged. Vine removed the mugs. "It will be very hot initially."

"So, what happens to the brain when a person falls in love?"

Vine rested a slim finger against his chin. "It's an uncertain area. There are most definitely chemical changes in the brain, and these will vary over time. Those changes may affect the person's behaviour, their perception... but it is transitory. I believe studies have shown that the initial effects do not persist. But it is not a well-researched area. Despite what some pseudo-scientific articles would have you believe." He smiled thinly.

"Uh, thanks, Vine. That was... illuminating. And thanks for the hot chocolate, I'll drink it in my room, I think." Clover picked up his mug and headed back.

The warm drink helped to soothe Clover's fragile nerves. He held the mug balanced on his propped-up knees, thoughts once more with Qrow. _So this will pass... but what will it leave behind?_

His scroll buzzed, causing him to startle and almost spill his drink. He placed the mug on the nightstand, finding his scroll in the dim light of the bedroom. There was a message from Qrow.

_No idea if you're awake, we just got back, see you in the morning. I missed you._

Clover's heart stilled at the final three words. Fingers trembling, he replied quickly to tell Qrow he was still awake. Qrow's response was immediate.

_Shall I come over?_

Clover tried to breathe as he typed.

_Yes._

  


Qrow was cold, his hair was damp, the stubble on his chin rougher than usual.

Clover held him as close as he could, pressing his lips against the untidy dark hair. "Qrow, thank the gods you're back safe."

"Why wouldn't I be?" Qrow tried for a nonchalant tone, failing dismally as his voice broke. "We weren't in any danger, not really. But not being able to even message you..."

"I know." Clover's husky voice was smothered by Qrow's mouth, the kiss slow and gentle. Clover felt tears stinging his eyes.

"Oh Qrow, I've missed you. Not just what you do to me, but _you._ I've missed you so much."

Qrow kissed Clover's eyelids, his lips still cool against Clover's warm skin. "Can we go to bed? I just want to be close to you."

Clover helped Qrow out of his clothes, a slow, deliberate process which felt so different from the first time. Qrow shivered as the last piece of clothing was removed.

"Do you want a shower?" Clover rubbed Qrow's arms, hoping to warm him up.

"No, but if you've got some spare pyjamas or something I can borrow..."

Clover opened a drawer and pulled out a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. "These do?"

"Fine, thanks." Qrow quickly pulled them on. Still shivering, he scrambled into the bed. "Mmm, nice and warm."

"I've got a bit of hot chocolate left here, if you're interested?"

"Nah, you have it... but be quick. I'm in serious need of heat here."

Clover swallowed the last few mouthfuls, discarding the mug before shuffling behind Qrow and pulling him close. "Qrow, do you want—"

"No, if that's okay. I'm shattered, and this is just what I needed..." He pressed back against Clover, giving a slow sigh as he did so. "Damned Solitas weather. I've dreamed about this..."

Clover's eyes were wide as he gazed into the darkness. _This is a side of Qrow I haven't seen before... I like it._ He kissed the back of Qrow's head, earning a sleepy, "Mmm, 'night, Clover."

It took Clover a little longer to join Qrow in sleep.

The furious intensity of their relationship so far had been heady, feverish. It was a kind of madness.

This softer, more companionable moment made Clover think. _If this is what Qrow wants, and I do too..._

He didn't want to lose the passion, the bruising delight. But he knew that it wasn't enough by itself, and those glorious peaks would not always be attainable.

A warm embrace, slipping into sleep with a man you cared deeply for...

That was something Clover wanted. And it seemed Qrow might want it, too.

He cautiously moved his hand and lightly touched Qrow's cheek. The skin was warm under his fingers.

Clover smiled against Qrow's back, sleep now ready to take him over.

**Author's Note:**

> Friendly comments always appreciated, thank you.
> 
> And many thanks to [Sica](https://archiveofourown.org/users/madamoiselle_sica/pseuds/madamoiselle_sica) for beta-reading this for me.


End file.
